Wangled a Training Day in Edinburgh today. I hopped off the train into sunshine and shiny pavements, bearing a slightly guilty sense of holiday.
This was enhanced by managing to find 15 minutes to nip into the Talbot Rice Gallery to see the Alastair Gray exhibition. Strangely vivid, in this font-dominated age, is handwriting and drawing.
And read The Floating Man (Katharine Towers) on the train on the way home. Writes extremely well about birds (well, I think she writes extremely well). But -
'These birds have no weight but heart-weight.
They are all heart, borne by lightness
and space - space between feathers, and space
within their trinkets of bone.'
Entirely satisfying.
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